


The Case Of The Unread Article

by later_than_the_rabbit



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Bored Sherlock Holmes, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Reader-Insert, Sherlock Needs A Case, Sherlock Needs A Hug, Sherlock is a Brat, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr request, also, get your mind out of the gutter, he has a thing for your feet, not that way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 10:06:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11712174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/later_than_the_rabbit/pseuds/later_than_the_rabbit
Summary: Sherlock tries his hardest to gain your attention after weeks of not having a case





	The Case Of The Unread Article

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr Request: Hayy I really love your imagines

Three weeks. Three weeks and two days. Three weeks, two days and five hours. Three weeks, two days, five hours and thirty-four minutes. Three weeks, two days, five hours, thirty-four minutes and sixteen seconds. Seventeen seconds. Eighteen seconds. 

You could here the time passing by in that exact, monotonous, baritone, and at the moment, frankly irritating voice. Since finishing the last interesting case that Sherlock had, you have had to suffer alongside him in his boredom. Well, suffering is a harsh word. More like going bat shit crazy out of your mind. 

You would have been perfectly content in having some time away from the criminal life of London, catching up in your shows and reading a book or two. Who knows what you could have done with this free time, certainly not you, who was staring blankly and failing at reading an online article, listening to Sherlock count out the seconds since his third week without a case and trying not to strangle him.

“Forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven. Y/N?” You turned your head stiffly to look at Sherlock straight in his eye, your left one twitching with irritation. He was staring blankly at the ceiling of 221B from his outstretched body on the couch, oblivious to your deathly glare.

“Yes Sherlock?”

“Y/N?” And apparently oblivious to your existence. You sighed and closed your laptop a little bit.

“Yes?”

“Y/N!”

“What!”

“Oh you're here. I was just checking.” You couldn’t help but slouch in your chair and cover your face with your hands, groaning long and hard to prevent yourself from having a meltdown. He looked over to you, perplexed at your actions. You knew this was just the absence of a case getting to him but even you had limits. “Y/N?”  
Repetition was one of them.

“For fuck’s sake, what Sherlock? What do you want?” He opened his mouth to speak again but you pointed your finger at him seethed, your jaw clenched and your words coming through your teeth. “And don’t you dare say my name again.”

“I was just going to ask if we had some left over Chinese from last night.”

“Well bloody go have a look yourself! You have two perfectly working legs, walk into the kitchen and have a fucking look.” You sat upright again and reopened your laptop from it’s half-closed position, trying your hardest to read the article about, well something, you didn’t know anymore. Sherlock didn’t move from his spot on the couch, he only huffed and rearranged his limbs so that he was curled in on himself, facing you. You saw from the corner of your eyes that he was looking over you curiously and that his mouth was opening and closing as if he was going to say something, yet he never did. You ignored his thinking and began to re-read the opening sentence of the article. He huffed once more and stood abruptly from his position, going into the kitchen and opening the fridge by the sounds of it. You let yourself relax a little and you managed to read the next few sentences of the article in peace as you heard the hum of the microwave and embraced the aroma of last nights Chinese. It was peaceful in the flat, until Sherlock decided to sit opposite you in his chair. 

He hummed in content as he ate the food, slouched as far as the furniture would allow, his legs entwining with yours and moving to a beat only he knew. You kept on reading your article, which was becoming increasingly difficult as Sherlock doubled his efforts to gain your attention. He began to maneuver your feet with his and managed to lift one up enough so that he could measure his against yours. You sighed and shifted your body to allow for his movements, not taking your eyes of the article which you would now have to restart once again.

“Y/N?” You closed your eyes and blew out another breath.

“Sherlock.”

“You have really small feet.” You opened your eyes and stared hard at him, becoming even more annoyed by the shit-eating grin that he had on his face.

“Okay.” You returned your eyes to the screen and felt Sherlock start to move his foot side to side on yours.

“Really look how little they are against mine.”

“Mhm.” You didn’t take your eyes off the laptop, which apparently wasn’t what Sherlock wanted. He placed the half empty plate aside and moved out of his slouched sitting to lean over the space between you and him. Now he was measuring his hands against your feet, his fingers cool against the delicate skin there.

“They’re tiny!” You gave up. Closing the laptop and abandoning the article, you placed it on the ground beside the chair and leaned forward, forcing your foot out of Sherlock’s grip and instead coming nose to nose with him over the carpet. Sherlock smiled widely at you and poked your nose with one of his cold fingers. “Hello.” Your stern expression melted as Sherlock’s brightened. You hung your head and sighed, looking back up to see Sherlock’s eyes glimmer as you smiled a little bit.

“Hi.” You squeaked when you felt Sherlock’s long arms encircle you and drag you off the chair and into his lap. He didn’t budge at all as you protested against the impromptu manhandling. When you heard your mobile ding from across the room after a few minutes of hopeless squirming, you tried reasoning with him to let you go. All he did was move one of his hand from your waist to your head, his fingers beginning to twist your hair as he relaxed in the chair, your weight comforting him as he hugged you. “Sherlock-”

“Shh sh sh shhhhh.” He patted your head and closed his eyes, resting his head atop yours. You sighed to yourself and wriggled a bit in his arms to find a better, more comfortable position, coming to realise that you probably weren’t leaving his arms for some time soon. When you had gotten yourself a little more comfy, you relaxed and wrapped your arms around his torso, smiling to yourself when you felt Sherlock’s cheeks move as he smiled as well. You had begun to drift off when you felt his chest vibrate with his voice. “You really are little Y/N. But it’s perfect. You’re perfect.” You sighed contently and nuzzled your face into his chest, falling asleep as he kissed the top of your head and followed you into sleep, the article long forgotten and the flat, finally, at peace.


End file.
